The Long Road
by mysticxf
Summary: Jack receives the visitor he's been waiting five years to see. AU Fic, post crash fic
1. Letters and Consequences

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Purple.

Lost – The Long Road: Letters and Consequences

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

May 2012

Jack came to hate the color purple. It wasn't something that happened overnight, but something that took months, years even. He stood just outside of his apartment with his mail in his hands and it floored him the way it did every time. He stared at the envelope with no return address, thick with pictures and paper. Purple. It was the color of the pen she used to write him her letters. She had sloppy handwriting, neater than his own, but not something anyone would associate with a girl's writing. It wasn't loopy or curvy, but harsh and scratched.

Kate wrote in tall thin letters and she wrote quickly. He knew because she told him she did. She didn't have much time to write, but she made damned sure she did. Always once a month, always to Jack, always in purple letters. And every letter he received took his breath away for just a moment. It meant she was alive. She was safe and still on the run. It meant that there was that small chance she'd come back.

Jack didn't dwell on that small chance though. Instead, Jack ran his thumb along the front, where her letters pressed softly onto the envelope's surface. He touched the small fingerprints that smudged the lower right corner and he lifted it to his nose, smelling the faintest traces of strawberry jelly and sweat. They were familiar to him even though he'd never met the hands who made them.

His apartment was cold. He kept it that way because heat made him nervous. It made him remember the island. It made him remember her. It brought back memories of kissing her, holding her – even just talking to her – that made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. He dropped his keys and his pocket change into a glass dish on a cherry wood table in the hallway, glancing at himself in the mirror above it for only a fraction of a second. Jack didn't like to look at himself, see the clean shaven face that stared back, the graying hair that grew too fast, the eyes that looked sunken, the body that refused to put on weight.

It just reminded him of who he had become. He worked all day, ate a quick dinner on the way home and then slept all night. In the morning he started the routine over. Jack didn't give himself time to enjoy himself. He felt guilty doing so. He made his way past the entrance to his bedroom and the kitchen and stepped into the living room. His feet clicked with each step, echoing through the house. It kept him calm, knowing the only sound he heard were the sounds of his own footsteps. Secretly, he came home each night hoping to hear hers.

His bag fell with a smack onto the tile floor and he let himself slump into the black leather couch that sat in the center of a bare living room. Jack's life was about the necessities now. There was no indulgence. Jack knew he could, that she didn't really have any power over him. He could buy a fancy rug, get a flat screen television with a digital surround sound system and he could play loud music and get drunk and have parties and fuck girls.

Jack could do anything he wanted to because Kate wasn't there. Kate would never be there. Not really. He tried to tell himself that every night, but it never worked. Somewhere inside, he still had hope. She'd be captured, or she'd turn herself in, or she'd just show up at his doorstep with a shrug and a smile. By the time he thought he could push her out of his mind, her letter arrived with those purple letters scratched onto the surface.

He stared at the letter in his hands, the one that made his stomach turn and his heart pound. The contents of that envelope were all he cared about. The words and the images that the envelope held kept him moving from day to day and he didn't want anything else to take the place of that. Others tried to get him to ignore her. His mother had introduced him to more women than he knew were in her social circle. Sawyer had dropped by unannounced with pairs of them every so often.

Sawyer told him to forget her. Jack would show him her letters. Remind him that there was more to the game than just himself and Kate and Sawyer would understand. For a week. Maybe two. But the other man knew perfectly well, it wasn't easy to forget what didn't go away. Jack slid his finger between the glue and the paper and listened to it tear open carefully. The open flap revealed the white paper folded around a small stack of photos inside. Jack touched it gently, pressing the paper against the photos, seeing the purple writing and grimacing.

It was the color of the words that burned him in the best and worst ways once a month.

"Jack, you won't believe where we've been. Florida. Since we were in Louisiana, and there were signs with Mickey Mouse everywhere – advertising hotels and cheap tickets and rides – Sam wanted to go. He wanted to meet this giant mouse. I don't think he understood he would be so big though. And he was cranky when we finally got through the line. So, of course, he kicked him. I got the picture. The only reason they didn't throw us out of the park is that Sam's barely five and they've had similar reactions. Kids freaking out seeing Mickey up close for the first time."

He smiled, staring up at the ceiling a moment before looking down at the images in his left hand. On top was a picture of Kate with Mickey Mouse. She was grinning, her eyes wide, surprised, and her hair pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, that one stubborn stray strand of hair running down the side of her face. Her cheeks were red and in her arms she held the five year old boy who had his leg swung out, heading in the general area of Mickey's crotch.

It made Jack laugh. The youngster with her dimples and his sloppy dark brown hair had his tongue pressed tight between his lips as he tried to reach the character at his side. He could see Kate straining her muscles to keep him in place. Behind it was a similar photo, except Sam was standing alone next to Mickey. Jack could tell the grin on his face was fake and chuckled as he saw the boy's eyes were trained on the giant mouse. He imagined Kate telling him to behave.

Sam would know he had to. They might cause suspicion otherwise.

"I've never been to Disneyworld. I didn't know it was that big. Sam was too short for a lot of the rides though and we don't have a real use for souvenirs. I did get him a shirt. That's useful at least. We got to see characters mostly, which he ran away from. Were you ever afraid of the characters in suits, Jack? I don't think I would have been. I once went to a water park with the school and there was a guy in a whale costume. I didn't find it too impressive."

He put down the letter and concentrated on the pictures. The little boy standing in front of a bush carved into the likeness of Dumbo. Sam waving in front the castle. Then a dark image of his profile as he stared at the giant boat from Pirates of the Caribbean. He could see, in the corner of the image, Sam's small hand within Kate's. He wondered if his boy was scared. Jack flipped and saw Sam in flip flops and light blue swim trunks and he picked up the letter again.

"Afterwards we just kept driving south. I've never been to Key West. There's a military base down there. I think my dad passed through there once on his way somewhere else. We went to the southernmost tip of the US and we swam in the ocean. There was a guy down there selling shirts with Manatees on them. Sam said they looked like monsters. He wanted to know if monsters were real. I didn't know what to tell him. I knew you'd tell him they weren't real. Monsters were figments of our imagination. Our psyche's attempt to give shape to the things we're afraid of that don't have shape. I told him monsters were real, but they lived on an island far far away."

Jack saw the picture of Kate and Sam at the giant marker at that southernmost tip of the states. Sam was pointing, Kate was watching him. She was making sure he didn't fall off the platform. There were lots of pictures like that, Jack knew. There were also lots of pictures of Sam showing off cuts and scrapes. He smiled at an image of the two of them in a tree. Kate was hanging upside down and Sam was underneath her, playing with her hair, which hung loose. The boy gripped it, pulling it to the sides of his head, so it almost looked like he had on a wig.

He was taken aback by how much Sam actually looked like her. Jack had always looked at the images of his boy and seen himself. The straight dark hair Kate kept cut in a floppy bowl, the thin lips and wide sad eyes. He touched the glossy paper, leaving a fingerprint on Sam's small chest.

Flipping to the next image, of Kate sitting on a fence, Jack straightened on the couch. The image was slightly crooked and she was staring off into the ocean. It was something he'd gotten so used to seeing on the island. Jack didn't think he'd ever see it again. He stared at her image, seeing the wrinkles that had crept into the corners of her eyes and the grey that peeked out here and there in her hair. Jack touched the curve of hips and smiled.

"I don't know where we're heading from here, Jack. I tried to head back to California, but they've got my picture posted everywhere. He knows all about you, Jack. He asks about you all the time. I tell him about the island, about the fun stuff that happened there. I'm scared to tell him about the rest. He has nightmares sometimes, about things I never told him about. I have nightmares now too. That they'll take him away from me."

He stopped, dropping the letter into his lap. It always ended the same. Jack knew she couldn't have changed the circumstances. They rescued them, she was heading for jail. Kate asked him to help her. She begged him for a distraction, something. Jack tackled a security guard, played like he tripped, and she escaped.

She didn't know she was pregnant. Jack told himself that every day – that she didn't know, she couldn't have known. He folded the papers and pushed them back into the envelope, standing with the stack of pictures in his left hand.

The photo album was blue and thick and had Sam Shephard imprinted on the side. Jack had it made after the third set of pictures came, when he had a chance to fully digest what Kate was showing him. Her first letters were short, they were to make sure he knew she was ok and still out there. Then she sent him a letter that was completely incoherent and Jack could see she'd cried all over it. He spent weeks trying to track down the source of the letter. He took it straight to the FBI who deemed her to be in a dangerous state of mind. Manically depressed? Jack couldn't remember what the exact term was.

Then he got the first pack of pictures.

She sat in front of a large sign for the Grand Canyon. Kate riding a mule. Her mocking her own wanted image, which was starting to vary from her actual appearance. Jack noticed she'd gained a bit of weight. He noticed her features rounded and her clothes were baggy and he wondered why. It didn't occur to him until the next set, when her stomach protruded. He stared at the image of her with her hands tucked underneath the bulge at her waistline, standing in front of a mountain somewhere in Washington. She sent him a sonogram that he stared at for an entire night.

He flipped the book open, thumbing through the pages, seeing Sam grow up in a flash of pages and he began sliding the new photos in. Turning each over slowly and reading the purple writing that gave him the date, the place and a little sentence or two on what was going on. Kate had an amazing memory for the details, he learned.

"He liked the train the best. Thunder Mountain. Was too short for Space Mountain, even on tip-toe. Chickened out of Splash Mountain, but I don't blame him."

"Charmed his first free soda from this lady. I made him think it was free anyways. Paid behind his back."

"Sam wanted to feed seagulls, wasn't too thrilled when they bit his finger. He told me daddy would make it better."

"I'm missing you here. Sam took the picture."

Jack slid the crooked image of Kate in beside one of her holding Sam tight to her chest as they sat on a bench near a large old tree. The little boy giggled, his eyes squinted in the way his own would when he laughed. He touched the image, feeling his chest burn as he closed the book on his son and slid it back onto the shelf beside other photo albums and medical books. Jack took the letter and went into his bedroom, sat on his bed and took a deep breath. He reached under the bed and pulled out a shoe box.

Pressing the letter into the box, his fingers slid across his own name printed in her sloppy handwriting on the front. Always purple letters, the same as the ones that ended each letter with the words "I love you, Jack. Sam loves you too." The color that made him clench his jaw and turn away when he saw it on the street held his full attention now as he inhaled the smell of her from faded letters. Jack listened to the knocking on his front door as he pushed the lid down on the box, sliding it back underneath his bed and he went into the living room dragging his feet.

The knocking came now with an urgency that made his heart pound and his head start to feel cold. Someone was in trouble. Her face flashed into his mind just before he whipped open the door and saw her standing there. Kate's mouth dropped open and she adjusted the boy sleeping in her arms.

"Hey, Jack."

End Chapter 1


	2. Five Past Midnight

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Black

Lost – The Long Road: Five Past Midnight

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

December 2007

The alleyway went dark. Black. For just an instant. It took her eyes that moment to adjust, to see the garbage cans and the moonlight shining off the puddle of water running through the center of the street. Kate was used to the darkness. She gripped a large trash bin whose green had long since faded to a dirty grey and took a breath as a sharp pain pulled at her. Her abdomen seemed to throb inside her and she felt the baby kick roughly at her ribs as she closed her eyes and winced through the contraction.

She'd waited as long as possible, but she had to get to a hospital. She knew she couldn't do it herself and she was happy for late deliveries. Kate was at least a week past her due date. The first of January was just around the corner and all sorts of crazy were going on around her. She touched her swollen belly and went around to the front entrance, watching the commotion of the nurses and other staff as they struggled to start up the generator while taking care of the drunks and gunshot wounds and random injuries that New Years brings.

The place was small, in a neighborhood in Chicago where the poorest people lived and Kate chose it for that. No one cared if you were a fugitive here. There weren't wanted posters in the post offices here. There weren't cops looking to arrest a pregnant white woman because they were too busy with their racial profiling and drug busting and teen gang bangs to worry about who the FBI was looking for.

A man shoved her aside and she put a protective hand on her stomach, grunting as she moved closer to the front desk. A nurse grabbed her before she arrived, "Senora, are you alright?"

Kate knew the other woman could read it on her face without her answering the question. Her own eyes had gone dark, her eyes dilated, and in the dim emergency lights they must have looked black to the small chubby woman with the large eyes and pink smock. Kate could feel sweat forming on her face and chest as the woman shouted for a wheelchair and she found herself collapsing into it.

The ability to take the weight off her aching legs made her sigh slightly as they rushed her past open doorways and other people shouting, other babies crying. Kate closed her eyes when she started to feel dizzy; left them closed when they lifted her off the chair and onto a hospital bed.

"What is your name?"

"How many weeks are you?"

"When are you due?"

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Kate hated being called ma'am. She wasn't that old. Sure, a few years on the island had added wrinkles to her face, but she was only thirty, that wasn't old enough to be called ma'am. Was it? Kate stared at the black world behind her eyelids and swallowed, listening until the room had gone silent save for the beep of her own heartbeat on a monitor. When had they put the monitors on her? Kate felt like she'd lost control and she found her heart pounding in her chest.

"My name…" she hesitated, hiding it behind a wince, "Is Kate Shephard." Her eyes came open slowly and she stared into the dark faces of several nurses and one grey haired female doctor whose tag read 'Dr. M. Ortiz'. Kate nodded her head and saw them start writing it on her chart. Her chart. Her head felt faint. This wasn't a good idea. There was a record. There wasn't supposed to be a record. It was why she pulled the power. "I'm a week late."

It seemed like only a breath before they began another tirade of questions. What was her blood type? Did she have any allergies? Who was her OBGYN? Was she having difficulty breathing? How far apart were the contractions? Had her water broken? Someone exclaimed that she was eight centimeters dilated and they went into a frenzy, shifting a second monitor over her naked belly and she closed her eyes again.

Where was the father?

His face, unshaven and serious, came into her mind as she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, feeling them yank her legs into stirrups that made her uncomfortable and scared. It was the last time she saw him, eight months ago. If she'd known she was pregnant, she wouldn't have punched a security guard and hijacked a small airplane from the runway. She would have given up. Maybe she would have given up. Kate didn't think about it now because it was too late.

Jack was somewhere in Los Angeles. He was in an apartment near the ocean. He worked all day and slept through the night and read her letters. She knew he read her letters because Hurley told her he did. Kate could never bring herself to call him directly. She was always afraid of what he'd say. Hurley told her he was doing well, but keeping himself busy. The man tried to make her laugh, told her he'd pay for her defense, the best lawyers in town and would post her bail if she promised not to, you know, run.

After the head, the baby pushed out of her body faster than she expected and she let out a grunt-like shout, hearing the nurses around her scrambling for equipment that was running on the generator. She heard someone shout out that the power company had found the source of the outage – sabotage – and she felt her body tiring from labor. "Rest, honey, we'll take care of your boy," a kind old black man told her, rubbing her head clean of sweat.

"My boy," Kate whispered.

She woke up alone in a hospital room, in the dark, six hours later. It was quiet and she took a few long breaths. The clock on the wall ticked along, the power had been restored. The computers would be working. They'd enter her information into a computer. It would blink back that she was wanted for murder, theft, reckless endangerment, and on and on. Sitting up, Kate touched her stomach, feeling the soreness just beyond the surface and she swung her legs over the side, moving to grab the IV in her arm.

"Wouldn't do that, Freckles," came the voice from a chair in the darkness.

It made her give a jump before she smiled, then frowned. "Sawyer?"

She could make out his shape now, his hair hanging softly against his cheekbones. "Got your letter. Was a bit concerned and seein's how you said you was in Chicago and I wasn't all that far away, I thought I'd come looking for you."

"How did you…"

"Think I can't do the math?" He stood, showing off the bundle cradled in his arms. "Knew you were 'bout ready to pop. I started checkin' hospitals. Told 'em I was lookin' for my pregnant wife. Curly brown haired girl. Beautiful, tough, named Kate. After four hospitals, I found you." He glanced at the boy in his arms. "So he's the New Years baby at this hospital. Least that's what the woman up front told me. Born five seconds after midnight. You believe that?"

Kate swallowed. She'd be an inner city news story. Great. She fingered the entrance to her IV and licked her lips. "I have to go," she uttered quickly.

Sawyer stepped forward and she saw the anger in his face. "You ain't leavin' this baby here, Kate."

She shook her head, pulling the IV out of her arm and grimacing. "No. I'm leaving him with you."

"What?" Sawyer threw a hand out, stopping her.

"I can't take him with me," she told him adamantly, her eyes starting to burn. "Take him with you. Take him to Jack. I can't…" she saw the small arm that flexed, small fingers opening and stretching, curling into a fist and then moving back behind the blanket. "Oh God," she started before Sawyer thrust him into her arms.

The boy was warm and smelled like clean laundry and milk. His eyes were shut, sleeping quietly, and he sucked his lips together making an odd gurgling noise somewhere in the back of his throat. Kate watched her first tear smack him on the left cheek and she looked back up at Sawyer. "He's your boy, Kate."

"I can't take care of him, Sawyer." She looked back down at him, at his small eyebrows furrowed in confusion as her tear made a path down his face. She touched him, wiping it away and the left corner of his mouth turned up slightly. Little bastard, she thought to herself. Sawyer moved closer to her, pulled her to his chest and she sobbed against it. "I can't take care of him."

"You will." Sawyer pulled her face into his rough hands. "The day you give that boy to Jack is the day you give up running. I know you, Freckles. Now, Hurley tells me they're working on your case, but they ain't nowhere near a solution that don't end with you either spending time in jail or going straight to the electric chair, so the way I figure it, you gotta stay hidden just a bit longer."

"When'd you get so smart," Kate teased, pushing his hands away and moving to sit in the chair with her son. Her son. Kate felt the warmth of his small body through the blanket and her gown. It melted away at her heart, the one that had convinced her she'd dump him at the nearest police station with a note and an apology.

Sawyer huffed a laugh. "Now, listen, before you go gettin' sentimental… they wanted a name."

Kate glanced up, she felt confused. A name. She'd never thought of a name. Jack would think of the name. It's what she'd told him in her letters. She told him she'd send him his baby, he'd give it a name. "I don't…" she trailed.

"I named him Sam." He jammed his hands in his pocket. "First stinkin' name that popped into my head. So I told 'em Sam Shephard 'cause I figured you'd want him to have his daddy's name."

She smiled slowly, lowering her eyes to the boy waking up in her arms. "Sam's good. It's fine," she told him. "Sam." Her son, Sam. Quick to say, quick to write, quick to sign, probably quick to learn. She always hated 'Katherine' when she was growing up. "We need to get out of here."

Sawyer narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth. "Kind of the reason I told you not to yank your IV. You don't have health insurance and you're obviously fine. There was a doc scheduled to come in and look on you in an hour or so. If he gave you the ok, they'd give you the boot before afternoon." Sawyer shrugged. "I got my car gassed up, figured I'd take you somewhere safe for a couple months, 'til you're ready to get back on your own."

"On my own," Kate repeated, looking down at Sam, who was now staring up at her. He had those 'baby' eyes, the kind that didn't quite have a color yet. It was something like black, with a blue center. Dark blue.

He popped his lips up at her and Sawyer laughed. "Think junior wants a little breakfast there, Freckles."

"Do you intend to breastfeed?" A tall dark man with long black curls and honest eyes asked from the door. He reminded Kate of Sayid and she frowned at him, then shrugged and nodded her head. "Ok then, let's teach momma how to…"

"I'm pretty sure I can figure it out," Kate huffed.

"Careful, doc, she's defensive," Sawyer smiled, taking his seat against the wall.

He examined her and, as Sawyer expected, they were sitting in his car riding towards Canada before the sun started setting. Kate sat half folded, her boots pressed hard against the dashboard. Sam was cuddled between her breasts and her thighs. He stared at her, wide awake and she watched him, memorizing him.

"So, I got one question for you and I know it's gonna sound stupid," Sawyer shifted himself in his seat and passed a glance at Kate. She touched Sam's forehead, dragging her finger along the soft surface of his bald head and watching his eyes roll up. It amused her slightly and she did it a second time. "Purple." Sawyer paused, looking at her. "Not really your color." He tapped the letter that stuck out from under two CD's between the seat.

Kate nodded slowly. "They gave me a batch of pens when I left the abortion clinic." She looked up at him. "Decided not to go through with it." Kate shrugged and looked back at her boy still staring up at her. She wondered if he was memorizing her. He had that intense stare, like his father. "They were purple."

End Chapter 2


	3. Open Wounds

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – White

Lost – The Long Road: Open Wounds

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

May 2012

Jack felt his blood bubble as he imagined all the things he'd wanted to shout at her over the years, starting with 'how could you', but he saw her face and his temperature dropped. Her cheeks were white, her forehead ashen and covered in sweat. He moved away when she glanced past him and she rushed in, hearing him slam the door behind her. Kate turned quickly, her hands gripping Sam against her and she gasped, "Take him."

"What, did you change your mind…" Jack started, but she winced and he rushed forward, grabbing the boy and watching his head roll back onto his arm where he carried him. He watched Kate grab hold of her side and lean against the couch. Jack panicked. He stood in front of her, watching her pull up her shirt so he could see the bandage bleeding through and he jumped towards his bedroom, laying Sam down gently and coming back out, pushing her onto the couch.

He placed a hand behind her head, feeling the back of her neck soaked in sweat and burning hot. "What happened?" He asked as he removed the white gauze she'd taped to herself haphazardly. He pressed his lips together tightly as he stood and went to his bathroom to retrieve more gauze and alcohol.

"I got shot, Jack," she told him. "They were going to hurt him, I got shot."

"Who was going to hurt him?" He watched her eyes close. Jack pressed down on the wound and she shouted, her left hand grabbing hold of his shoulder. He watched her eyes shut tight and her brow wrinkle as she concentrated on keeping her mouth shut. "How many days ago, Kate?" She shook her head and he pushed his hand underneath her, not feeling the gauze for an exit wound. Jack closed his eyes and stared down at her. "How many days, Kate?" He repeated.

"One, two? I don't remember," she spat at him.

He picked up the phone, dialing quickly and watched the panic spread across her face as she began to shake her head. "I can't do this, Kate, not here."

"I can't go…" her words trailed and her eyes drifted closed.

"Kate!" Jack shouted, feeling her pulse pounding underneath his fingertips as he listened to the operator asking him the state of his emergency. "I need an ambulance, I've got a gunshot wound to the stomach," his eyes wandered to the small boy emerging from his bedroom, his eyes wide as he gripped the doorway. Jack told the woman his address and fell onto his backside, leaning against the couch as he watched Sam look from Kate to him.

"Daddy?" He asked curiously. "Is mommy ok?"

Jack nodded slowly, turning and watching Kate moan. He got back on his knees and pressed gauze into her wound. "She'll be fine, we're going to get her to a hospital."

The boy came to his side, touching his shoulder and peeking at her. "She said you'd make her better."

Watching the little boy in the white sweater and jean shorts, Jack smiled, feeling the small fingers that curled around his right bicep. He turned quickly, engulfing the boy in a hug that lifted him off the ground. It was what he expected. He was painfully thin, but strong. His heart hammered in his chest and he breathed in deep, smelling old car leather and something like chocolate mints.

He waited for Sam to scream, or kick, or shove him away, but he felt him lay his head down on his shoulders and wrap his arms around him as best he could. Jack felt the boy's left hand start to pat his back softly, soothing him and he pulled him away, placing him back on the ground.

"You're crying," Sam said, touching a cold finger to Jack's cheek. He nodded his head, watching the expressions change on the boy. Sam was concerned about him. He watched Sam's hand travel towards his mother's hand and he turned, quickly wiping his slate clean and studied the woman lying on the couch.

Sam was just like her.

He waited there for the ambulance and fought the urge to sob as they rode to the hospital. Sam sat patiently in his lap, holding his hand and watching everything the EMT's did to his mother. Jack carried him into the waiting room and held him when he fell asleep against his chest. The little boy gripped his shirt tightly through a nightmare and Jack kissed his forehead, whispering to him that everything would be fine.

Jack used to have dreams about moments like this. He'd be holding his son, reassuring his son, loving his son. He half hoped Kate didn't make it. He knew the bullet could easily have dug a hole through her intestines. Infection could have set in. She could be hours from death. But it burned Jack somewhere deep to think it. He shook the thoughts away and waited.

They found the bullet in her gut, wedged between her intestines and her liver. Jack half-listened to a doctor tell him how the surgery had gone well. He also listened to security guards tell him the feds were on their way to do their own examinations. They'd move her when she was physically ready, which, Jack knew, was going to be sooner than necessary.

He went into the room, Sam hanging off him, and he looked at her. Jack hated being in that room. It made him feel like a small child being punished. They called it Lockdown. It was where they kept prisoners on the not-so-rare occasion they had one. The room was stripped of the normal artwork hanging in their rooms, of a television, of anything other than the necessary medical equipment and a spare chair. It didn't even have a window. And it was white. The sheets, the walls, the floor. It felt like a void to Jack.

They'd strapped her down to the bed and she was awake, staring up at the ceiling. Jack watched a single tear fall down her face as she refused to look at him. He went towards her, shifting Sam against him and he listened to the boy mumble against his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, his mind had gone blank the minute he realized he was turning her in.

In all these years, he never thought it would be him turning her in.

"Two days, Kate? It could have gotten infected. You could have died."

"I wish I had," she muttered.

Jack shook his head. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath of his son's odor. "How could you keep him from me?"

Her eyes shifted towards him. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Is this what you think I wanted?"

"I don't know what you want, Kate!" Jack rasped, leaning in closer to her. "You have no idea what the last five years have been like for me. Every single day wondering if you're ok, if Sam's ok. Waiting for a fucking pack of pictures and a god damned letter!" Jack pressed a hand against Sam's back. "This is MY son, Kate."

Her face crumpled instantly and Jack turned away, listening to her sob as the beep of her heart rate jumped. Jack concentrated on the soft sound of Sam's breathing and the occasional smacking of his lips until Kate calmed. He found a chair in a corner and he sat, pressing the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"What do you think it's been like for me," Kate said suddenly, her eyes finding a spot on the ceiling. "Every day worrying that maybe they'll find me. That they'll kill him in a shootout. That I'll run out of money, or have to run to a place where I can't send you god damned letters… or fucking pictures." She took a long breath. "I did the best I could."

"You could have brought him to me the way you were supposed to," Jack suggested, playing with the straight brown hair on Sam's head. "I would have taken him."

Kate shook her head. "I tried," she shrugged, grimacing at the straps that held her down. "I tried a million times to get over here. Every time I ran into problems, every time I had to tell him he wasn't seeing his daddy that day. I wanted to bring him, Jack, I couldn't."

"You did this time." Jack clenched is jaw. "Took a bullet in your gut to get you here. Guess your priorities are a little fucked up, Kate."

She turned her head slowly. "Fuck you, Jack."

"Back at you," he told her, cocking his head to the side and leaning back in the chair. He watched her turn her head and stare back up at the ceiling. Occasionally she licked her lips, or sniffled loudly and Jack looked away. The boy on his lap shifted, moving his head from Jack's left shoulder to his right shoulder and be brought a hand up, balling it up under his chin.

In the morning, the bed was empty.

End Chapter 3


	4. Fading Fire

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Orange

Lost – The Long Road: Fading Fire

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

March 2007

She let him hold her. They were living in a dilapidated cabin they'd found abandoned in the woods of central Canada and it was cold. The fireplace in the living room was burning a bright orange, glowing in through their open door and she lay curled up in his arms. She let him pull her body closer to his, feeling his erection pressed against her backside. Sam slept quietly in the other room. Sawyer built him a crib.

He was a pretty good craftsman and quick too. Sawyer didn't like the idea of Sam rolling around on the floor, or possibly falling off a bed. He'd told her there were plenty of trees around them and no one would miss them one bit if he took two or three for firewood and a crib. So she let him. No harm in it and her boy would be safe. Confined and cuddled in blankets Sawyer bought at a store in town. Kate tucked the baby in for the long night and watched the orange tint to his small sleeping face. His hair was growing now, a thin layer of light brown fuzz that she loved to run her hand over.

She watched him while she wrote her letters to Jack. She told him she was safe. She detailed Jack's son's delivery to him and cried knowing it was one of a million memories he would never have of his son. Kate considered turning herself in. She felt a guilt she hadn't felt in a long time. Her pen scratched along the paper as Sawyer prepared dinner and she inhaled the scent of freshly caught rabbit and potatoes from the market.

"He's growing, Jack. Almost fifteen pounds. Starting to smile all the time too. He thinks everything is funny. Quite the ironic child you have, Mr. Shephard." Sawyer watched her write with a snarl on his lips. He hated that she wrote to him. He hated that the whole world dissolved when she wrote to him. Sawyer said it was as if Jack were there and no one else was. It made her grin. That night he didn't hold her and she felt empty.

Kate had almost forgotten what it'd felt like.

She let him touch her. Sawyer's hands traveled in his sleep. They roamed her body. They squeezed at her arms and rubbed at her thighs and dug between her legs. He rested his palm there, in that space, and it made her uncomfortable. But she let him. She listened to him mumble in his sleep, groaning into her ear as the night went on. She heard it all because she was listening for Sam. After a while she got up and paced the living room. She stood in front of the fire and watched the flames lick up the sides of the fireplace until she was sleepy and then she went back to bed.

He always found her, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her waist. It was why she let him. It made her feel safe. Kate was used to being violated. She was used to pain and hate and horrible things. Sawyer was none of that. He was just needy. He was jealous and lonely. Kate was lonely too. It was the worst thing about being on the run. Knowing there was no one to turn to. Every phone call you had to worry about, every person you talked to a possible snitch.

Sawyer would never. She knew that. Knew none of the survivors would. She called them, she talked to them all the time. All except Jack. She was afraid of calling him. Afraid of what he'd say. Afraid he'd hang up on her. Afraid he'd turn her in. He was the only one she knew could. Kate was afraid he hated her. She wrote her letters with her heart in her throat and she stood over the corner mailboxes with the envelope clutched to her chest, hoping there was some way out of it.

Now Sawyer delivered her letters. He went into town and got supplies and threw the letter in the box without giving it a second glance. Sawyer didn't care about her letters, but he sent them. He sent them because he knew what it meant to her. Sawyer knew her better than anyone on the island sometimes. Even Jack.

The months passed slowly, it had been three, almost four. Kate watched Sawyer's face on the days he'd come back from sending them. He was serious, like the cold affected him more on those days. She hugged him, gave him kiss on the lips and took the grocery bags from him to make dinner while he relaxed in front of the fire. It was her thank you because she couldn't say it.

Kate let him love her. It wasn't hard. It bubbled on the surface of his skin every time he looked at her. He hugged her while she changed Sam's diaper. He ran his hands through her hair after a long day of chopping wood and hunting for food. He didn't like to buy too much when he went into town. Sawyer wasn't trying to draw attention to them. He came home with books and he read to her by the fire.

She laughed at his snark, she ruffled his hair, she played the wife. Kate had never had the chance to, not even with Jack on the island. Life was different on the island. Constantly hectic and rushed and urgent. Like it could all end. They could all die. Boom. Kate remembered the dynamite well. Remembered the accidents. Remembered the deaths. The Others. She blinked them out of her mind when she had nightmares.

They'd take her baby.

Sawyer kissed her neck and she found herself jerking slightly. She'd been in a daze. He ran a hand along the length of her thigh and moaned into her ear. Kate half turned, seeing his eyes closed as he snuggled into her collar bone and sucked roughly, flicking the surface of her skin with his tongue before sucking again. She took in a long breath. Kate pulled away, pressed her hands against his chest and watched his eyes open slowly.

"I can't stand it anymore," he told her honestly.

He moved forward, capturing her lips before she could protest and she found herself melting into the kiss, twirling her tongue around his before letting her hands slide around him, under his shirt and over his bare skin. He was on fire, shifting and pressing her into the bed as he deepened the kiss to a point where Kate found herself forgetting to breathe. It'd been so long. Her stomach burned and she could feel herself starting to shake for him.

Sawyer unbuttoned the long shirt she wore as a nightgown and let it rest against her arms. He thrust himself against her leg and she let out a small gasp of surprise, feeling his wet lips make a trail down her neck, down her chest, until they found her right nipple. He teased it between his teeth and she closed her eyes. The world was a burnt orange, illuminated by the fire; kept dark by the night.

Kate felt his hands push apart her legs as he kissed the space between her breasts and down her stomach, to her belly button and he breathed hot through her panties. His hands slipped under the sides and he tugged, bringing them down to her knees. She let him pull them off her legs and he buried himself into her, making her shout as he teased her, flicking his tongue in circles around her core before sliding it into her body.

She gasped, her knees wrapping tightly around his head. Sawyer gripped her thighs, kneading them gently with his thumbs as he began a rhythm with his tongue. Kate was still delicate and Sawyer danced that thin line between pleasure and pain, moaning into her every so often, making her run her hands through his hair. He sped up the pace and she arched her back, feeling butterflies in her stomach, moving lower and lower until she let out her breath, slammed her eyes shut and felt the jolt of electricity meet Sawyer's mouth. He felt it, the muscles inside her convulse and he pushed farther, intensifying the sensations for her.

"Oh God…" Kate sighed. Then she said his name. It happened quicker than she could think. Quicker than she could stop herself. Jack. In one hushed whisper that echoed within her and stopped the movement between her legs. She felt Sawyer lift his head slightly, breathing roughly against her still quivering body and she let her hands fall at her sides. "Sorry," she breathed, bringing a hand up to her head to wipe away the sweat.

Sawyer threw back the sheets and sat up on the bed. Kate glanced down at him, seeing his erect penis pushing his boxers to their limits. She frowned, watching the sorrow on his face in the faint orange light from the living room. He pursed his lips and lowered his eyebrows and slid a hand up his own leg towards his erection, rubbing himself gently before standing up and going into the bathroom. Kate stood, feeling her legs weak underneath her and she changed into new clothes, pulling her jacket on over her sweater. She heard him grunt from the bathroom and then smack the wall.

Grabbing her bags, she began shoving clothes and diapers into them. She stole a hundred dollars from Sawyer and dressed Sam in thick baby blue clothes and adjusted him into the Bjorn she had wrapped over her shoulder. She made her way into the living room and watched the embers glowing a faint reddish orange as the sun began to shine its own golden color through the windows. Her body froze as she touched the handle of the front door.

"So that's it," Sawyer called loudly from the bedroom door.

"I've been here too long, Sawyer." Kate didn't turn. She measured his movements by his sound. He shifted on his feet and dropped his head lightly.

"Ain't ya at least gonna kiss me goodbye?" It was his attempt at a joke, but neither of them laughed. Kate knew she'd stayed far too long. She'd gotten comfortable. She'd run long enough to know the second you started to familiarize yourself with a location, it was time for you to go.

Kate opened the door and felt the cold springtime air blast her. It would be April soon. Sam woke up and pushed a hand out from underneath his blanket and thumped her chest, gurgling at her. "I'm sorry, Sawyer." Kate pushed the boy's hand back under the warmth of the blanket. He took a step towards her, but she went onto the porch and then stepped onto the snow, feeling it crunch under her boots.

She'd lived in the snow before. She'd do it again.

End Chapter 4


	5. Child of Hers

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Green

Lost – The Long Road: Child of Hers

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

May 2012

Sam's eyes were green. Something like the angry ocean in the evening and they stared at Jack from across the table. Sam had his chin resting on his hands and he watched Jack pour an unhealthy amount of sugar on top of his Rice Crispies. Jack'd always done it, since he was small. His mother would never buy him frosted cereals. No chocolate puffs or marshmallow bits, just corn flakes and milk. Jack didn't have his first pop tart until middle school. Cherry filled with white frosting and emerald colored sprinkles.

He glanced down at the boy and raised the cereal box. "You like Rice Crispies?"

"I don't eat breakfast," he mumbled. Those eyes staring up wide at him. "Makes me sick."

"Hmph," Jack responded, shoveling a large spoonful into his mouth. "Nothing?"

"A cup of milk." Sam raised his head and shifted himself off the chair he was too small for. He pulled open the refrigerator door and his mouth fell open. "You've got a lot of food." Jack laughed. Turning his head, Sam watched Jack a moment before pointing to a half gallon of milk. "It's two percent." Nodding, Jack stood and grabbed a cup out of his cupboard. But Sam shook his head. "It tastes watered down."

"You drink whole milk…" He wanted to tell the kid it was bad for him, but he knew as well as anyone else – it wasn't the same if it wasn't whole milk. Jack stepped around him and pulled the half gallon out of the fridge. "Drink this now and I'll pick you up a gallon of the regular stuff later, ok?"

Sam shrugged his small shoulders, but nodded, moving away to watch Jack pour him a glass of milk and place it on the table. He climbed back up into the chair, on his knees, and held the glass, staring at the liquid inside. "Got any chocolate?"

Lowering his eyebrows, Jack thought a moment, then pulled open another cabinet and slapped a bottle of Nestle chocolate syrup he reserved for ice cream onto the table. He checked the expiration date before letting it go. Things like chocolate in Jack's apartment often sat unused for too long.

Sam smiled, his tongue slipping through his thin lips as he popped the cap off and turned the bottle over his cup and began to squeeze. Jack watched as the boy recapped the bottle and put it back where he'd grabbed it and then waited, his green eyes finding Jack's brown ones. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I can't stir it with my fingers," Sam explained with a grin.

Jack lowered his head, feeling a bit dense, and pulled a teaspoon out of a drawer, plunking it into Sam's glass. The boy stirred carefully, slowly, and when his milk had turned a sufficient shade of murky brown, he lifted the glass with two hands and took several long gulps. Jack sat back down in front of his cereal.

"You're going to need to brush your teeth," Jack muttered.

Sam nodded, watching him, his eyes alert and focused on Jack. "My bag's in the car."

"The car?" Jack raised his head, watching Sam's bright eyes glide towards the window. "Outside. We parked it out front. All our stuff's in there."

"You have stuff?" He watched Sam nod.

"It's not a lot of stuff. 'Bare necessities' is what mommy says." Sam smiled. "Mommy's smart, you know."

Jack frowned, looking away from the boy who cocked his head forward and just enough to the right to look like Kate… when she mocked him. He stood and went to the window, glancing down at the old olive car parked in front of the building. It'd be towed by the end of the day, he knew. "Can you stay here a minute?"

"Where are you going?" Sam asked quickly, panicked.

Jack turned. "I'm not leaving, just going downstairs." He stopped. "Mommy didn't happen to leave the…"

Sam dug a single key out of his pocket. "She always gives me the key." He held it tightly in his small fist. "I'm going with you," he told Jack, with a nod of his chin while staring defiantly with those determined eyes. He could see Kate, back on the island, insisting to go with him into the jungle. Jack placed his hands at his waist and smiled at the empty apartment before nodding.

"Fine, you can come."

The boy rushed over to his side, his hair flopping about, and he followed Jack down to the car, opening the door for him. Jack noticed he didn't let go of the car key. He wondered if he thought Jack was going to steal it. He wondered if he thought Jack was going to drive away.

They rode back up in the elevator with a suitcase and two backpacks between them. Sam held a large jacket in his hands. It was Kate's, Jack knew. He watched the boy bite his bottom lip as he stared down at it. It was hunter green and suede. Jack wondered where she'd gotten it.

They entered the apartment and Sam took the jacket and his backpack and placed them on the couch, unzipping one of the small compartments on his pack. Jack noticed it was plan dark beige with green trim, no Power Rangers or Dinosaurs, or other creatures and cartoons – like on most children's backpacks. It was dirty too, covered in smudges and stains he didn't recognize.

He wondered what his boy had been through.

Sam picked at his toothbrush and a small travel sized tube of toothpaste and looked up at Jack. "Where did mommy go?"

Biting his bottom lip, Jack tried to think of an answer that would satisfy the child, but he didn't have much experience with children outside of the few years he spent with Aaron on the island. "What did mommy tell you before you got here?" Jack sat on the couch, next to Sam's backpack.

Lowering his eyes, Sam shrugged. "She said she was hurt, that we had to go see daddy 'cause she knew you would make her better. She said it was bad though, and that you might take her to the hospital. She told me if that happened, I had to be brave because I probably wouldn't see her for a while." Sam raised his eyes to meet Jack's. "She told me she'd leave me with my daddy and he'd take care of me." Sam dropped his eyes again and touched her jacket, pressing his fingers into the material and Jack could see his bottom lip start to tremble, but he bit it hard between his teeth.

Jack touched his chin, lifting it up to see the green that sparkled up at him, bright with tears. "It's ok to cry, Sam." And he watched his son's face break in front of him before scooping him up into his lap and holding him as he sobbed. Jack took a long breath, feeling the boy shake in his arms until he was finished and had drifted off to sleep. Jack picked up Kate's jacket and took the boy into the room, lying him down and covering him in the soft material laced with his mother's scent.

Running his hand through Sam's hair, Jack looked around at his apartment. It suddenly struck him that he had no idea what to do. Jack didn't know what kids needed. He didn't know how to take care of one. He felt his heart beginning to pound as his breath escaped him and he knew he was going to have a panic attack. So he counted. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth and he counted and when he hit five, he was terrified.

End Chapter 5


	6. Terrible Two's

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Yellow

Lost – The Long Road: Terrible Two's

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

January 2009

Sam blew out the single yellow candle on his cupcake and clapped his hands together, smiling up at his mother. They were seated in a Denny's restaurant at midnight along with a handful of other people who sang along with the waitress and Kate. An elderly woman gave Sam a dollar and he proceeded to shout, "I gotta dowa, mommy!" She helped him put it into the pocket of his jacket and thanked the woman who smiled and blushed as her husband lead her out.

This was Sam's second birthday. It was far better than the first, which was spent in a box car somewhere in Michigan on an abandoned railroad. Kate remembered crying as loud as she wanted, watching Sam sleep with a congested nose, a gurgled cough and a high fever. She covered him in a canary yellow blanket she'd found in a goodwill store. It had a duck on it that Sam found amusing.

She pushed her face into her hands and she screamed. It had been smooth for a while. She kept hidden, she took pictures of Sam. Sometimes she asked passersby on the street to picture them together. For Jack. So he could see they were alright. She'd written him a letter an hour earlier. Listening to Sam whimper and moan and call out to her. All she wanted was to go to Jack. To hand him his son and ask him to fix the boy. A pharmacist gave her medicine and advice, but she didn't think it was working.

All Kate could think was her son wouldn't live to see two. She'd killed him with her stupidity. The next morning she woke to a happy green-eyed baby slapping her on the cheek. He coughed in her face and then laughed, clapping his hands and pointing at his medicine. Kate sometimes thought he was smarter than she was. Some days it wasn't too hard to think so.

Tonight, exactly one year later, they found themselves in a restaurant near a gas stop on the open road somewhere in North Carolina. Kate wasn't even sure. She kept tabs on the FBI's hunt. Their website wasn't hard to hack if you gave it a shot and the right contacts. If they were looking north, she went south, if they looked east, she went west. Of course, she never went too far west. They were always watching California. Particularly the beaches near Jack's apartment.

She'd already tried to go once. Ended up with a back window shattered by bullets and a screaming infant in the passenger seat. Kate didn't stop crying until she reached the end of Nevada, even after Sam had fallen asleep and the sun had come up on her second day without sleep. She watched him now, pushing a finger through the pale yellow frosting on his cupcake and bringing it to his lips.

It wasn't often she let him indulge. There wasn't time or money for it.

Kate nodded at Sam's plate. "Hey Sam, finish your eggs."

The boy poked them with a sticky finger. "We gonna see daddy?"

She watched his eyes stare up at her. They were large and green and inquisitive. They waited. He picked up a piece of his eggs with his fingers and dropped it back down on his plate. She almost wished he'd never learned how to talk. He was picking up words faster than she could keep up with. Started with "mommy", then "tubble". Kate knew trouble well and Sam was a better radar than herself. She didn't question him when they approached a place and he fidgeted in his seat. It was trouble.

"Not tonight, baby," she told him gently, stabbing some eggs with her fork and putting them to his lips. They frowned, his eyes looking down and finding the offending yellow substance just below his nostrils and he opened his mouth, closing it around the fork. She put her fork down and watched him chew, making a face. He didn't eat breakfast. She figured giving it to him at midnight to celebrate another year would be acceptable, but he poked at his pancakes and shifted a piece of toast right off his place and onto the carpet.

"When're we gonna see daddy?"

She put her elbows on the table and pressed her temples with her forefingers. Sam bit his bottom lip and flared his nose knowing she wasn't in the mood. Kate watched him out of the corner of her eye. He picked up another piece of eggs and put it into his mouth, gently grabbing his bright yellow Denny's sippy cup and taking a long drink of chocolate milk before looking back at her.

"Sorry, mommy," he whispered.

"It's ok," she told him, bringing her arms together in front of her. She watched him eat a few more pieces of eggs and nibble on a strip of bacon before asking for a box for the rest. The waitress gave Sam a coloring book and crayons and they left. Kate over-tipped. It wasn't often she had a reason to, but the woman with the golden curls fawned over her son for two hours.

Kate watched his eyes drifting shut as they began driving again. She wasn't even sure where she was going. She wanted to maybe go home. Iowa. She hadn't been there in a long time and she wanted to take Sam there. Maybe visit a friend. Show off her boy. She hated that she couldn't be like other mothers. Most mothers heard their child scream and they rolled their eyes. "What mess has junior gotten himself into this time!" They'd exclaim.

When Kate heard Sam scream, she panicked. Her heart jumped into her throat and her pulse hammered in her ears. Her stomach turned over and her body felt cold. She didn't take her eyes off him often, and when she did, it wasn't for more than a few seconds. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and shook her head, her vision going blurry.

The road didn't end. Never did. She watched the yellow lines speed past her one by one and growled at them when they made her dizzy. How long has it been, Kate? It was Jack's voice, pestering her from a thousand miles away. How long's it been since you had a good night's rest?

She didn't know. Sam had started sleeping through the night after a few months, but even then, she woke up for every sound he made. And when she did fall asleep, she woke up to the sound of strange footsteps, sirens in the distance, anything out of the ordinary – which was anything at all.

Kate pulled into a gas station and glanced at Sam, biting her bottom lip before stepping out of the car and locking him inside. She rushed into the store and smiled at the young man behind the counter who raised an eyebrow at her before straightening. She said a quick hello and went to their coffee machine, filling a cup and heading to the register.

"Long night?" He asked, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah," she smiled, looking around as he found the 'special' code for coffee and entered it into the register.

"This all, ma'am?" The man added after the ching of the sale. Kate blinked, knowing that tone. There was fear in there. Her head shifted slowly, watching his hand rise from underneath the counter and she glanced up at him, feeling her heart hammer in her chest before seeing the three by five picture of her face on a poster taped to the inside of the glass barrier between herself and him.

Slamming two dollars on the table, she grinned tightly and snatched her cup. "Have a great night," she read his nametag quickly, "Erik."

"Wait!" He shouted as she turned, but she didn't stop until she heard the cock of his shotgun. "Wait," he repeated. Kate turned slowly.

"I'm not looking for trouble." She pointed. "I have a two year old sleeping in the car."

"You STOLE a baby?" He shouted, his face grimacing in disgust.

Kate shook her head, raising her hands slowly. "He's my son. I'm not looking for trouble."

The man hesitated, the gun shifting off her and she threw her coffee at him, listening to the gunshot ricochet off the magazine racks just behind her as she pushed through the front door and jumped back into the car. Sam jerked awake and his eyes went wide, looking around as Kate peeled the car back onto the road.

Another gunshot broke her taillight and she cursed.

"Mommy, what happened?" Sam asked loudly.

"Nothing, baby," she pushed him back, pressing him against the baby car seat and taking several long breaths.

"Mommy, you're hurt." He pointed and she jumped, looking at her left shoulder, at the spot where the bullet had just missed her, just grazed her skin and it was soaking her sweater.

"I'm fine, it's just a small booboo."

"Daddy can make it better."

Kate felt her lower lip tremble and she inhaled deeply, trying to control it. But she looked at Sam, at the concern wrapped around his small face. She looked at Jack, back on the island, who stared at her when she fell and scraped her knees bloody. Jack, who patched up a cut on her hand telling jokes while looking scared. Jack, who promised he'd keep her safe forever.

End Chapter 6


	7. Understanding

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Brown

Lost – The Long Road: Understanding

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

May 2012

Jack went through her stuff. Someone would show up sooner or later for it. They'd want it for evidence. They'd want to talk to Sam. They'd ask him about the letters. Jack would have to stand trial against her. So he unzipped the dark brown suitcase and flipped it open on his coffee table, glancing inside at the neatly folded clothes. There were her shirts and Sam shirts, all bundled together, along with a spare set of jeans for each. She left the island in a dead man's boots and it seemed to have stayed that way. He picked up a pair of new sneakers he knew belonged to Sam. They were bargain shoes. He hated that he wondered if they were stolen.

Her toothbrush, a hairbrush and some small random hotel bottles of shampoo and conditioner, along with small bars of soap wrapped with Holiday Inn logos were stashed in a plastic bag. He thumbed a few postcards jammed into a side compartment before sighing and closing the suitcase and placing it delicately on the ground. Then he grabbed her backpack. It was brown too. Kate wasn't much for variety, he figured. It was dirtier than Sam's was and he could see a splattering of what looked like blood at the side. Jack scratched at it, but it was soaked in so long ago it didn't budge.

It occurred to him that she'd been hurt before. She'd been hurt and hadn't told him, come to see him, asked for his help. It frightened him to death that it could have been Sam's blood. Jack shook his head and held the brown pack, bringing it into his lap. He pulled it open and smiled, seeing a few small boxes of animal crackers crammed on top, a recent purchase for the long car trip to Los Angeles to see him. He removed them, finding an unopened pack of tampons and an empty battered cigarette box. Kate didn't smoke, he thought to himself. Did she? He didn't smell it on Sam.

Jack tossed the cigarette box on the table and removed a dark folder pressed against the back lining of the pack, flipping it open. It was the paper. He took a long breath and then shoved his hand into the bag and removed the pen. It was purple, half chewed and capped too tight. Jack wondered how long she sat with the folder propped up on her brown bag wondering what to tell him.

He unzipped a side compartment and out fell a disposable camera. Jack frowned at it. Only three pictures had been taken. Jack glanced back at the folder, seeing the folded page sticking out from the side flaps. He placed the bag on the ground and pulled out the sheet, seeing her scratchy handwriting. There were brown fingerprints. Her own. She'd already been shot when she'd started writing.

"Hey Jack. By now you've done what you had to do. Should have done it sooner. Almost surprised you haven't. It's not easy to find me, but I'm leaving breadcrumbs that can be followed. If you bothered to pay attention, you could have found me by now."

The last line was scratched out with one neat line, a smudge of brown across it where her blood streaked the page. How badly had it been? Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose and passed a glance into his room, at his son sleeping quietly there. Jack wondered what she told Sam, how he'd reacted to a gunshot being fired. Was it the first time he'd been shot at? And why would law enforcement shoot at an innocent child. Were they that desperate to catch her?

Jack had followed her case, knew they had enough evidence to put her away for a good amount of time. He also knew Kate, knew she was incapable of what they were accusing her of. At least not without good reason. But the media painted her a cold blooded murderer, despite the whirlwind of testimony otherwise. Her old friends, schoolteachers, some bank manager, an Australian farmer, and them. The survivors who made it back. Jack at the forefront. She escaped less than a day after they arrived in Los Angeles.

"I told Sam there was a good chance he'd be staying with you. He understands I'm in trouble. He understands that people want to punish me for things they think I did. Sam knows the truth; I told him in detail. He had nightmares and probably still does. He's heard the story they've told on the news, even he knows it makes no sense. Jack, I didn't want this to happen. I didn't think it would. I've been in over my head for a long time now. Every few weeks I try to go into LA but there are bounty hunters there. They have my picture and they don't care that Sam is only five. They'll shoot him to slow me down without blinking. I know their kind, worked with them before."

Again, she scratched out the last line. Jack wondered why this time. He knew she had fallen in with bad people at the worst times in her life. "I know you won't listen to me, but I knew you'd find this. Because you're curious, Jack. I know you want to know everything and I wish I had the time to tell you. For a week I'll be in an infirmary, maximum security. They'll put me out into the general prison population after that. More likely, isolation since I'm prone to escaping. I'll be fine there, Jack, don't worry about it. But they probably won't let you in to see me. I'd be surprised if they do. So I'll see you in court. Hope you're still on my side. I love you, I always have. Sam loves you too, be patient with him."

"I've been teaching him how to read, he has books in his backpack. Make sure he reads them, and brushes his teeth, and takes a bath. He hates to take a bath. If you tell him he can have chocolate milk afterwards though, he complains less. Don't force him to eat breakfast, Jack, he will vomit all over you when he brushes his teeth. He's type O neg, not allergic to anything I can tell and likes to shove quarters in his nose. Don't let him near buttons either. Especially important ones that set off alarms. Jack, please don't let them take him from you. Please keep him safe. Please…"

She scratched off the last 'please' and the letter ended. The purple writing, scratchy and now pressed hard into the paper, stopped abruptly with a smudge of brown dried out blood. Putting the letter down, Jack stood and went into the bedroom, watching Sam snuggle further into the jacket that was wrapped around him. He touched his forehead gently, wiping the brown hair that fell just like his used to when he was younger.

"Hey, Sam," he gave the boy's body a little shake. Sam's light eyes popped open and he took in a sharp breath, then sighed as he focused on his father. "Let's go out."

"Where?"

"Visit a friend of mine," Jack told him with a warm smile. "Someone you'll like."

Sam lowered his eyebrows questioningly, but sat up, shoving his arms into the jacket and jumping off the bed. It fit him like a dress, but Jack zipped it up and picked him up off the floor and walked out of his apartment, giving Kate's brown pack and the letter sitting next to it one last glance before closing the door behind him. Once in the elevator, Sam laid his head down on his shoulder, breathing softly onto his neck. Jack closed his eyes, feeling the warmth, identifying the smell of his son – dirt and chocolate milk.

He was gripping his shoulder when they stood on the front porch of a large house with a brick red roof and more windows than Sam could count. Jack knew because the boy tried. The door opened and Hurley stared down at Jack with an expression of bewilderment and then his grin broke and he moved forward, pulling Jack and Sam into a bear hug.

"Dude, what are you doing here!" Hurley shouted into his ear.

"Hurley!" Sam said quickly, pointing a finger at the man who backed up a few steps, finally seeing the child Jack held.

"Sam, my man!" He raised a hand in the air and waited for the youngster to slap him five before laughing. "How've you been, where's your mom?" Hurley stopped looking around and his eyes rested on Jack's. "Where's Kate?"

With a nod, Sam offered, "In jail."

"You know Hurley?" Jack finally spat.

Hurley shrugged. "She calls, man, puts the kid on the phone." He moved when Jack shoved past him, setting Sam down in the living room.

Sam looked from Jack to Hurley and he tiled his head back, his dark hair sliding off his forehead. "I'm gonna find a bathroom."

Jack watched him dart down a hallway, pushing doors open as he went. "She calls you?"

"Every so often, Jack. She wants to know what's going on with her case." He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes avoiding Jack's. "Wanted to know when it was safe to come home." Hurley bit his bottom lip. "What happened?"

"You've spoken to Sam." Jack stared at the ground, his eyes wide with shock.

"Maybe you should sit down," Hurley put a strong hand on Jack's shoulder and lead him to a couch, watching him sit quickly and fold his hands together. "She was afraid to call you. Thought you'd be pissed."

"I was pissed."

"There you go," Hurley sat across from him on the loveseat. "So they arrested her," he stated, pressing his hands together roughly.

"If they'd been able to drag her off the operating table, they would have," Jack laughed, but his heart wasn't in it. The idea that Hurley probably knew his son better than he did stung. He looked up. Hurley had his lips pressed so tightly they were white and his forehead had broken out in a sweat. "I just want to know…"

"Every ten days. I made her call every ten days." Hurley said strongly. "I wanted to know she was ok, wanted to know if the kid was ok, and honestly, I think she liked calling and hearing my voice. I think she knew I'd never scold her or patronize her or talk shit like maybe you would have. She knew if she called you, she'd just give up. You'd make her want to just give up."

Jack nodded slowly, watching Hurley squeeze his fingers. "Ok." Jack watched Sam peek out from behind a wall and he waved a hand. Watching Sam's brown hair bounce about as he toddled over in the oversized coat. "What are we gonna do about it?"

"About what?" Hurley asked, raising his head and seeing Jack pull Sam up into his lap. Jack could tell by the way the other man watched the child, he'd never seen him. He stared, amazed.

"Kate's case, Hurley." Jack smiled, took a deep breath. "This kid needs his mom, you know. Alive." Sam nodded, his eyes widening a moment as he turned to look at Jack. He watched Sam frown and turn away, staring at the beige tile that lined the floor. The small hand that rested on his forearm tightened its grip. He had no clue.

End Chapter 7


	8. Going Home

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Blue

Lost – The Long Road: Going Home

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

May 2012

Kate woke with a start. Her chest pounded and she jumped up in the bed, feeling for her son and gasping when she couldn't find him. Her eyes darted around in the darkness and she felt her nostrils beginning to burn with the rapid intake of cold air. Outside the colors flashed every few seconds. Just blue. She rolled out of bed and listened to the sound of her feet stomping through the trailer as she made her way to the window and looked out.

A cop car sat across the lot. One of those undercover cars. The ones that had blue and white lights. The ones that made her nervous. At least, she thought to herself, they had light. The ones to worry about were the cars that came unmarked. The cars that came without lights.

"Sam?" She called quietly, listening to the silence. Kate peeked her head into the bathroom and saw the cold white walls illuminate with the cobalt color beating in through the windows like a pulse. "Sam."

She felt her body freeze as she opened each of the three closets before going back into the bedroom and searching the sheets for her son. Her hands came up empty and her eyes burned. There was a clock ticking inside her head. She knew the blue that blinded her every two seconds was a bad thing. She knew they had to leave.

"Sam!" Kate shouted, hearing her voice break with fear. Her legs felt like jello underneath her as she stepped back into the living room and saw him staring up at her from his spot next to the fridge. He held a cup of chocolate milk in his hands and he turned slowly, looking at the blue that lit up the curtains.

"Trouble," he said softly, his voice thick with sleep.

Kate rushed to him, grabbed the cup and placed it in the sink, turning to grab him by his shoulder and drag him into the back room. "Big trouble."

He reached for his bag as she reached for hers and they jammed their belongings into them. Kate glanced out the back window, where her car was stashed under a bright blue tarp near a trash mound. It looked like a piece of junk to begin with, no one questioned it sitting there.

"Why didn't you come when I called you?" She whispered harshly at him as he pulled a white sweater over his pajama top.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, watching her grab the suede brown jacket from the edge of the dresser. He picked up his pack, pulling it over his shoulders and gripping the straps as he watched her go out into the living room again. She peeked out the window.

"Katherine Austin," came a voice booming over a megaphone. "Come out with your hands in the air."

"Big trouble," Sam repeated his mother's words, sneaking up behind her, tugging at her jeans. "We gotta go," he urged, staring up at her with frightened eyes. Kate touched his head, nodding without looking and she let the flaps close.

She went into the back room and removed a section of the floor she'd pre-cut just after they'd rented the trailer. There was a crawl space underneath the trailer big enough for them to get out to and she'd remove a piece of the fencing that had been put around to hide the space. Kate planned. It's what she was always doing; protecting her son with plans.

The years she'd been on the run before, the most planning she ever did was to get the toy plane. Organizing a bank heist. Maybe the collecting of license plates. But Kate lived from day to day. Now she looked ahead. She planned. Sam threw himself into the hole and coughed, but quickly covered his mouth.

"You ok?" Kate whispered.

The boy gave her one thumb up and she nodded, pulling her jacket on and going into the hole after him. She yanked her bag through and led the way to the spot at the back of the trailer, looking through the holes before kicking out a section of the fence big enough for her.

Kate pulled her son out, wiping dirt off his face as she snuck across the darkness and the flashing light to a bush. The man's voice bellowed again and she heard a second car pull up. She wasn't much for praying, Kate had never gone to church, but she prayed now. Please, God, don't let them hurt my baby. Her eyes drifted to his, watching through the leaves of the bush.

"Come on," she whispered and he nodded slowly. They stood, crouched and ran across the darkness to the blue tarp. Kate pulled open the driver side door and shoved Sam through, watching him jump into the back and then duck down behind the seat. Kate started the engine, listening to it thunder to life as she winced.

There was shouting and she put the car into reverse, turning and lifting herself to see backwards. She'd come out around the backside of the dump and they wouldn't see her. Only, they already had. The first shot bounced off the hood and she held her breath, pressing her foot tightly onto the gas pedal.

The second dug into her gut and she screamed.

The car stopped sharply. Kate turned, pressing her hand into her side, feeling the blood starting to run through. She looked out through the windshield which was now cracked and she grimaced against the pain as she threw the car into drive and gunned it. She hit one man and clipped the back of his car before swerving onto the main dirt road. The car she clipped slammed into the second, knocking over a few officers.

They were slow in following and she watched the speedometer pass 100 miles per hour as she hissed through her teeth. She heard her son calling her but she didn't turn. She watched the road. Kate concentrated as hard as she could. She drove until the sun rose and she never looked back.

"Mommy?" Sam called. He pressed his small hand into her cheek and watched her eyes shift underneath the lids a moment before they snapped open.

"How long was I asleep?" She snapped.

"A few hours," Sam informed her with a frown. "You ok, mommy?"

Kate shook her head. They'd pulled into a gas station. Sam had paid and pumped while she pulled gauze out of her glove compartment and tried to stop the bleeding. They'd been driving for two days. Driving in the direction of California. She got the impression Sam knew where they were going.

He knew this time they were going to get there.

"Mommy!" He shouted in her ear, his voice breaking.

Kate shook her head, watching the clear skies ahead of them on the road. "Sit down, Sam."

"You're not ok," he told her, pressing himself firmly against the seat. His white sweater was stained with dirt and his knees were rubbed raw. "You're not ok, mommy."

"No, I'm not," she spat. "Shut up and sit back."

He crossed his arms over his chest and took a long breath. "You have a fever," he told her.

"I know."

"You have to go to a hospital."

"I know!" Kate shouted, turning to see him flinch in his seat. "Sam," she breathed. "Sam, I'm not mad."

"Yes you are," he replied weakly.

"I would never…" her words left her as she watched him shift himself farther from her. Kate felt her bottom lip quiver. They'd just had the time of their lives. They'd just gone to Disney World. It was the most normal day she'd ever been able to give him. No cops, no look outs, no danger. Just a fucking mouse.

Sam lowered his head. "I know."

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"I know."

Kate gripped the steering wheel, watching the sign that passed letting her know she was closer to Jack now than she'd been in five years. "We're going to see daddy. Sam."

"I know."

"No, listen to me," she touched his shoulder, watching his face scrunch up in fear. What was he afraid of? Kate recognized that face. Recognized herself. She'd never… not Sam. "I'm hurt, you know that, but it's bad. Really bad, and we have to see daddy."

Sam turned his head, lifted a hand to hold hers.

"This is serious." She touched her side, feeling it pulse with pain underneath her fingers. "He's probably going to have to take me to the hospital." Kate swallowed. "If he does, you probably won't see me for a long time."

"Mom," Sam whimpered.

"No, listen." She turned to face him harshly. "You might not see me again."

"Mommy," he cried.

Kate swallowed, turning back to look at the road, following the blue sky ahead. "You'll stay with your father. He'll keep you safe, Sam. He loves you."

"Mommy, no." Sam shifted in his seat, his mouth falling into a frown and his eyes glowing red. "No."

Kate listened to him cry. He pleaded with her. He begged her not to go away. Kate fought the urge to sob. She fought the urge to slap him. She hated that the thought was even there. He told her they didn't have to see daddy. Ever. She could go somewhere else. She could get better somewhere else. Someone else could fix her.

Sam hiccupped his requests after a while, after his eyes had dried of tears and all that was left were dry heaves and snot. He screamed at her until his voice was sore and the sun had set, turning the blue sky black. Sam pleaded until his eyes drifted to sleep and that's when Kate looked at him.

His body slumped against the door, his mouth hanging open, his eyes pressed shut and his nose running freely. She pulled over into a parking space in front of a large unfamiliar building, watching the street for cops. She undid the lock on the seatbelt and lifted him to her chest. Kate cleaned his nose, watching him sniffle and sigh.

"Ok Sam," she whispered, pushing the door open and stepping out. She glanced at her jacket, thrown in the back seat, but left it, taking the car key and shoving it into Sam's pocket.

Kate leaned against the car a moment, pain radiating from the bullet hole in her side. She took a long breath and went towards the building, pushing the front glass doors open. It was nearing sunset, no one would think anything of a mother and son arriving home, she hoped.

The elevator hummed under her feet and she found herself dozing. Her head burned and her chest felt like it was empty as she watched Sam breathing against her. She licked her finger and wiped dirt from his nose, swept hair from his face and stepped out of the elevator on his floor. His door was the only one without a welcome matt.

She knocked, her breath caught in her throat. What would he say? What would he do? What would he look like? Kate felt her heart hammering against her ribcage and she listened to the footsteps inside quicken when she pounded a second time.

Jack.

Kate swallowed hard, shifting Sam in her arms. Jack. I'm sorry. Jack. I love you. Jack. I didn't mean for it to turn out this way. Jack. I didn't want to be gone this long. Jack. I need your help. Jack. I know. Jack. God, I'm sorry. Jack. Jack. Jack. Her mind felt numb as the door pulled open and he stood there staring down at her.

Staring down at his son.

"Hey, Jack."

End Chapter 8


	9. Role Reversal

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Red

Lost – The Long Road: Role Reversal

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

August 2012

Red.

It was the color of her jumper. Not even orange, like the ones you saw on television. Jack watched her walk down the long hallway; he could tell it was her by the way she walked. She had a stance, something strong, and a walk, a bit masculine. Muscular. Fierce. Jack watched her walk down the hall and in through one gate and through another and finally towards the seat across from him.

He stared at her through the bars, through the sheet of thick glass as she frowned at the table in front of her. She couldn't even look at him. Her cheeks flushed in two spots that made the rest of her look that much paler. Her freckles even hid from him. He watched her bottom lip quiver slightly and her eyes tear up the longer he watched.

Jack didn't say a word for a very long time. He just watched her. He hadn't had the pleasure in a very long time. Her shoulders slumped, her arms twitched, her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, but he could see the quick pulse at her neck. Jack sat still, feeling the air between them fill with tension again. Like old times.

"I love you."

Her eyes came up to meet his and her expression was one of complete fascination. He wondered what she was thinking. Just what was going through her mind. It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, he'd had it a million times since the day he met her. Even on the day he met her. What was she thinking?

"I love you."

He repeated the words, watching them strike her each time, as if with a whip. I love you. Jack meant it. From the bottom of his heart, he meant it. He'd always loved her. Even when he hated her to death. Even when he wanted her dead. Jack loved her. Her mouth parted, but no words came out. He could see her lips were chapped, in one spot they'd been bleeding.

"It's been five years since I wanted to say that to you. You never gave me the chance."

Kate lowered her eyes again. He didn't think she understood him. He knew she assumed it meant he loved her then, but not now. He smiled, watching her eyes brim over with tears. The first one slid quickly down her face leaving a wet train that made the pink shone bright red. He folded his hands on the table in front of him, his charcoal suit strained at the back.

"I love you."

Her eyes came back up, confused. "What?"

Jack shook his head. "They really are doing a number on you in there."

"What?" Kate grimaced.

"You fucked up, Kate." He shrugged. "But it's the best thing you could have done." Jack lowered his eyes a moment. "You made him polite. You made him generous and selfless. You made him strong. You made him smart and honest. You made him obedient and wonderful and mine."

Kate let herself smile and Jack got the impression it was the first time in a long time.

"He's growing." Jack grinned. "I bought a chart. Sam thinks it's ridiculous. It's one of those giraffes you tack to the wall and you measure yourself every few months. He's grown two inches since you brought him." He slapped a picture down on the white table of Sam pointing at the giraffe. Kate touched the glass between them as she stared down at the image of her son laughing.

"I took him down to the school and enrolled him. He starts at the end of the month. Kindergarten. They have a uniform. Khaki pants and red shirts. Took him to get his uniforms the other day. He likes the clothes alright, but thinks the shoes are uncomfortable." Jack put down a picture of Sam showing off his uniform and Kate laughed, glancing up at him a moment before he put down another picture of Sam barefoot.

"Then we went to Disneyland. They let him in, even if he was too small, and we rode everything. He says it's smaller than Disneyworld, but he wants to take you when you get out. Got over his fear of Mickey though." Jack dropped an image of Sam hugging Mickey Mouse and then pressed a picture of them on Splash Mountain up against the glass for Kate to see.

"I miss you." Jack told her softly. "Sam misses you too."

Kate dropped her face into her hands and he watched her shoulders shake as she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"You can cry." He whispered.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry for not bringing him to you sooner." Kate shook. "I'm sorry for the time you missed." She looked up at him and the remorse on her red face rendered him speechless. "I'm sorry for the god damned letters and all the fucking pictures." Kate put a hand to her head. "I'm sorry."

Staring down at the pictures in front of him, Jack shook his head. It wasn't what he'd expected. He thought she'd be happy. Jack swept the images up and pushed them down into the inside pocket of his jacket and when he looked up, she looked horrified. Her mouth fell open and she had a hand half reached out to the glass.

"I miss him," she told him, staring at the pocket of his jacket. "I miss him."

"They won't let me bring him." Jack watched her nod slowly, mumbling that she understood. "Hurley had good news, but they wouldn't let me bring him in either." She laughed. "It's done."

"What?" Kate shook her head. "What? No." She sat up straight. "What?"

"It's not that simple." Jack bit his bottom lip. "The original charges are soon to be dropped. It's everything else. They want you to serve some time."

Kate nodded quickly. "I understand."

"Looks like five to ten years." He watched her release her breath. "Maybe less on good behavior."

"Ten years," she told herself, her face becoming hard. Determined. "I can do ten years."

"I'll take care of him, Kate."

She smiled. "I know you will."

"I'll send you pictures. He'll write you letters."

Kate nodded. "You'll visit?"

Jack grinned. "I'll visit." He stood and watched her stand, her red jumper hanging limp on her body. She nodded her head as he waited. Jack did love her. He loved her more now than ever. He didn't think he'd ever understand why. He walked out of the building and down to the car where Hurley sat with Sam.

"Is she ok?" Hurley asked as Sam watched.

"She took it well." Jack started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot, moving to a traffic light and watching the red light shine in front of him. "She'll be fine."

He watched the way Sam nodded his head. He knew better than anyone. Sam knew his mom was tough. Jack watched the boy hold tight to the jacket in his hands. The one that had become his blanket, his teddy bear, his companion. Jack touched the boy's head and waited until he turned to look up at him.

"She'll be fine."

"I know," Sam smiled.

End Chapter 9

Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams and crew. I'm just borrowing for fun. Written in response to the Fanfic100 prompts – Colorless

Lost – The Long Road: Reunion

By Mystic

Oct/Nov

January 2017

It wasn't the birthday he expected. There were no clowns or guests or presents. No colorful banners or extravagant cakes. He'd gotten used to it. His father had learned to indulge. So had he. In five years Sam had seen everything he'd seen with his mother again with his father.

He climbed onto the tallest trees and skied along the slopes of mountains. Sam went to baseball games and he attended board meetings sitting quietly in a corner listening to his father debate surgical procedures. He'd visited dams and bridges and skyscrapers. He'd eaten in the finest restaurants and the dirtiest holes in the wall.

Sam'd watched sunsets from Key West to New York to Seattle to San Diego. Sam had seen museums and monuments, read books and gone to plays. He learned he hated the opera and loved Hockey. He gained a few aunts and uncles he'd only known by phone and finally met the other man who held his mother's heart in his palm.

His father had him make a list. Every single place he could remember loving. Every single place he could remember wanting to go. They did it all. Together. Jack taught him how to stitch an apple closed and Sam had taught Jack how to make the perfect chocolate milk. They spent Saturday nights eating ice cream and watching scary movies and all Sunday afternoon watching football and screaming at the television.

Sam walked with his father, a scarf hanging loose against his chest and he felt his cheeks burning with an excitement he'd never felt. They walked down a long hallway, his sneakers squeaking where his father's shoes clicked. It was colourless. He studied the walls, he studied the lights and the bars and the people. Everything stared back at him, making him feel frightened and small.

The gate squealed under the weight of itself as they led them through the last door where she waited. Sam watched her tighten the belt around her waist, fidgeting with the buckle as if she hadn't done it in a long time and had forgotten. He moved forward, touching her cold fingers, pushing them away as he ran the metal spoke through a hole the way she used to when he was smaller. He pulled it tight and smiled up at her.

Her eyes studied him. He was taller now, his head reaching just under her chin. His hair had was longer, hanging shaggy with just the hint of a wave. "Hey, mom." His voice was deeper and she laughed, hearing it.

"My boy," she told him, cupping his face in her hands and she kissed his forehead, pulling him into a hug, tight against her. Sam rubbed her back gently, smelling moth balls and sweat on her clothes. The same clothes he'd last seen her in.

Sam raised his head, seeing Jack approach and he looked up at her. "We got a new place, mom. Two bedroom, nice yard and a dog. German Shephard named Rusty. He's still a puppy and real gentle."

Kate smiled, walking with him to where Jack stood. His hair had gotten longer too, shaggy, and Kate saw her son in him. He held open her brown suede jacket and waited. Kate released Sam and put her arms into it, feeling Jack wrap his arms around her and she turned, looking up into his eyes.

Sam watched them kiss. He'd never seen them kiss before. Jack held her face and pulled her off the ground and she put her arms around his neck. Sam saw the tears streaming down both their cheeks and he felt himself blushing, turning away. He turned back when he felt her hand on his arm.

"Hey kid. It's your birthday."

"Yeah." Sam smirked.

Jack sighed. "Didn't want a party."

"You're ten, ten deserves a party," Kate told him, her hand rubbing circles on his back the way she used to when he was a baby.

"This is my party," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. He smiled up at them when they exchanged a look. They'd talked about each other so long, Sam had been waiting for this day forever. To see them together. To see the spark he knew was there. To finally see his parents. He grinned, walking forward and sighed, "I still expect presents though."

Jack laughed and Kate buried her face in his shoulder as they watched their son smile back at them. "I feel bad," Kate told Jack as she watched Sam jump into the car ahead of them. "I don't have a present for him. I always have a present for him."

Jack kissed her gently on her forehead. "You are his present, Kate."

Sam waited in the car as they climbed in and he stared out the back passenger window as they drove home. He felt his chest swell at the idea that he'd finally be going home with his mom and his dad. Sam had counted down the days. He'd wished on every birthday candle, on every shooting star, every wishbone at Thanksgiving and every Christmas.

He listened to them. It started quietly, slowly, but they began a conversation. It was like watching a rolling wave crashing onto shore. Beautiful and natural and never-ending because he knew they'd never be apart again.

It was Sam's best birthday.

Finis


End file.
